


The Babysitter

by TheWritingBisexual



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Babysitting duty, Drabble, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, I just needed these two to banter ok, May Parker is out working the work life fam living in Queens ain't cheap, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Short One Shot, Sick Peter, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Superfamily (Marvel), dorky Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 14:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15536274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingBisexual/pseuds/TheWritingBisexual
Summary: Peter is totally fine. One hundred percent. Superheroes don't get sick. Besides, a fever is just an overrated hot flush, right?





	The Babysitter

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there,  
> This is really just a pointless drabble piece focusing on a Nat and Peter friendship. I'm a sucker for sick fics, especially in this fandom, so I finally thought it was time to write one myself with some of my favourite characters.  
> First time writing for the MCU, so let me know what you think.  
> I am on tumblr too, @ heronatasha. Feel free to follow, ask for drabbles, etc.  
> Enjoy!

Peter wasn't exactly sick. He didn't get sick. It wasn't possible. Spider-bitten superheroes don't just cop out to the flu. Or at least, that's what Peter was muttering as he lay sprawled on the white bathroom tiles, fever running a cool one-oh-four.

 The tiles were cold. And maybe a little damp. They felt nice on his skin, okay? Peter didn't want to move. He didn't really think he could if he tried but nobody could make him. Nobody--

"Clothes aren't a thing in Queens?" Natasha said as she leaned against the door jamb, leather jacket squeaking as she folded her arms across her chest.

 An ungodly yelp left Peter. "Wha-- Natasha? What-- Where, when did you...?" His brain slowly died on that sentence as he scrambled for substance against the wall, pulling himself up, before quickly yanking a towel down from the rail to cover his boxers. The world began to spin; and not in a nice web-slinging way.

 "Thirty seconds ago." Natasha shrugged a shoulder. "I knocked, but your lock was easy enough to pick." There weren't many things Natasha couldn't get through.

 Peter frowned, wiping some sweat off of his forehead with the back of his shaky hand. "But... there was a chain on the door."

"Was."

 Okay, so that answered approximately one of the million questions on the teenagers mind right now. Peter made a mental note to break out the tool kit later and fix the door. May would pop a lung if she saw that when she got home, ask a million questions about a break-in then maybe call the police for good measure.

"So, uh... you're... what's goin' on?" Peter mumbled casually.

 Natasha shot him a dry look. She wasn't stupid. "Tony is out of town with Happy. Budget cuts make me next in line to babysit." The signature deadpan tone made Peter unsure whether Natasha was actually joking. "Karen said your fever was out of normal range when you were on patrol this morning. For an average human, you should be near comatose right now." Natasha mused as she pushed off the door, her black-heeled boots clacking on the tile as she moved closer.

 "What? No, no, no." Peter hastily corrected. Karen, the goddamn tattle-tale. Must be one of those pesky safety protocols. Tony had made doubly sure they fixed up his suit from Ned's tampering. Peter still had access to his full kit, but the health protocols had become a fail-safe. "It's just sweat. From exercise. In the suit." Work the problem, Parker, come on. "Was working out... doing pull ups on the--" his eyes scanned around, looking for something. Quick. Anything. "Shower curtain bar thing." He flapped his hand dismissively.

"Ahuh." Natasha nodded, a bland look in her eyes as she stared back at him, gaze unwavering. The kid was lying through his teeth. That suited her fine. She can handle liars. Peter might be a more slippery one though, judging from the sheen of sweat on his forehead. How far gone was he?

 The monotone in her voice let Peter know he was unable to deceive the infamous Black Widow. He hadn't had much hope in the first place, though. Peter had acted about as casual as a bull in a tightly packed antique store. It was fine. Everything was A-okay. His senses weren't dulled, his heart wasn't at all racing, his stomach totally did not feel like it was going to fall right out of his ass, either. Peter was fine.

Two Natasha's just meant double the help, right?

Wrong.

 Knees buckling, Peter felt a strong pair of hands on his clammy skin. One arm around his shoulders, the other on his bicep, Natasha guided him along effortlessly to the nearest flat surface that wasn't a tiled floor. The couch.

 Peter's back hit the cushions and he muttered a childish whine, chestnut hair flopping in front of his eyes. "I'm fine. Don' need'a sitter." He slurred.

"Wrong." Natasha stated drily, waltzing into the kitchen like she'd been there before. A rather nasty bout of the flu, Natasha thought. She wasn't a doctor, but his condition wasn't getting life threatening. Yet. No need to worry May or daddy-Stark. She inwardly smirked. It was no surprise to her that the millionaire had taken a liking to the kid. They were too much alike, especially in situations like this.

 Peter frowned as he watched her open the cabinet with the glasses on her first search. Wait, had she been here before? He ran a sweaty hand through his soaked hair and pouted. This apartment was definitely bugged. No doubt about that. He goes to sit up, and the world spins. Peter slinks back with a whine as his head thumps.

"Bad thing about being super is your metabolism. Painkillers won't help, unless we get the good stuff. And I'm afraid I can't get you the good stuff without alerting Tony, or chasing down a high-grade drug ring operating here in Queens. Both would result in a headache for me as well, so you're on your own." Natasha mused with a small smirk as she sidles over to the couch and hands him a glass of ice water.

 Peter probably wouldn't have taken the drugs anyway. He knew the ones, fancy and about as expensive as a new Stark-Pad. "Better save you that headache then." Peter croaked, taking a sip of the water with a crane of his neck. It was helping.

"If you know whats good for you." Natasha replied in a tease as she settled down in the armchair next to the couch. She pulled out her phone and flicked a quick text to Tony, updating him. Normally, Natasha wouldn't do this kind of thing. She wasn't known for being soft. But Natasha was allowed to be human once in a while, right? Domesticity was a luxury she could rarely afford. She would take it where she could. Right now, she was finding it here in a dusty apartment in Queens with a sick teenage superhero. The corner of her mouth twitched into the smallest of smiles.

 Watching her carefully, Peter was about to say something about Natasha not needing to stay with him, but the words didn't quite leave his lips. It was nice, the company. Being looked after, too. May had a habit of smothering him when he was sick but Natasha just seemed to be lingering. It was a comfortable change. Peter pulled down a blanket from the back of the couch after he set his water aside, snuggling down. Letting out a sigh, he was just about to drift off when he felt the blanket get snatched from his body. Peter hissed with a pout. "Aw, what? That was comfy."

 Natasha nabbed the blanket, pulling it over her own lap and settling back. "You've got a fever. Cool off, and maybe I'll let you have it back."

"I can't just tell my body to cool off." Peter remarked with a glare.

"Try harder." Natasha shrugged, a smirk on her lips as she sighed, grasping for the television remote. Screen blaring to life, she downs the volume before flicking through the channels.

 Peter huffed, shaking his head a little, his eyes turning to the TV. Fine, he could deal with no blanket, but what he couldn't deal with was Natasha's taste in shows. "Please, Nat, not _The Bachelor_." He guessed Natasha liked seeing how fake it all was. Though, his pleading fell on deaf ears.

A couple of hours later they were on the tenth episode of the season, Peter just as invested as Natasha was.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. If you liked it, feel free to let me know in the comments, or add some kudos! And if you didn't, like I said, I am new to writing for this fandom, so constructive criticism is welcome!  
> Follow on Tumblr @ heronatasha if you feel so inclined. Look forward to meeting y'all there!


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